


I Gave You All

by canistakahari



Series: space IKEA [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:31:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canistakahari/pseuds/canistakahari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim shows his gratitude.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Gave You All

**Author's Note:**

  * For [affectingly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/affectingly/gifts).



The mountain of decorative pillows on the bed strikes McCoy as  _completely_  unnecessary, especially considering most of them need to be piled on the floor when it comes time to actually  _sleep_.   
  
But the pillows match the bedding set, which in turn matches the  _walls_ , and Jim insists on keeping them.   
  
Even if they spend 60% of their time in a haphazard little heap next to the bed itself.   
  
With a deep sigh, McCoy begins the nightly task of relocation.   
  
Before he has a chance to finish, Jim has slipped into the room, pounced McCoy into bed, rolled him onto his stomach, and pinned him flat.   
  
“Jim,” he groans, wriggling beneath the sturdy weight of Jim’s body. “I’m not finished turning down the bed.”  
  
“Fuck that,” breathes Jim, grinding his erection into the curve of McCoy’s ass. “I need to fuck you  _now_.”  
  
“What’s brought this on?” mumbles McCoy.   
  
To be perfectly honest, he doesn’t have any objections to being fucked right now.   
  
At all.   
  
But at the back of his mind, there’s a lingering trace of anixety that this sudden burst of sexual fervor will just turn out to be another strain of bizarre alien mind-whammy and now they’re going to spend the next week in bed fucking like it’s the end of the world.   
  
Again, McCoy finds little about this situation objectionable, except maybe the potential chafing that will be involved. Endless rounds of sex are, after all, more appealing than replicating the pages of home décor magazines in their quarters. He hopes that his worry when Jim expresses heightened interest in  _anything_  will dissipate in time, because this is ludicrous. The real concern was when Jim _wasn’t_  interested in sex. And oh god McCoy shut  _up_  and just  _relax_.  
  
“Oh, you know,” says Jim, pressing leisurely, open-mouthed kisses to the back of McCoy’s neck and down the curve of his jaw. “It occurred to me that I never properly thanked you. For being so supportive when I was...”  
  
“Nesting,” supplies McCoy helpfully. Jim’s hips thrust into his ass and he moans, squirming helplessly at the pull of their clothes and the friction between them.   
  
“Nesting,” agrees Jim. “I know I neglected you.”  
  
“Jim,” gasps McCoy, rubbing his cheek into the pillow. “You know it’s okay, right? You couldn’t help it. I love you, I wasn’t about to—”  
  
“Hush,” commands Jim quietly, nipping his earlobe. “It’s time for you to be quiet and let me take care of you.”  
  
There’s absolutely nothing McCoy can say to that. In fact, Jim’s words flood his body with arousal, his cock hardening between his legs. Jim divests him of his shirt and then tugs his pajama pants down, McCoy lifting his hips to make it easier, though Jim doesn’t bother removing them all the way, just pulls them down under his ass and leaves them tangled around his thighs.

“Up,” orders Jim, patting him sharply on the bum. “On your knees.”  
  
McCoy obliges with a groan, arranging himself on elbows and knees, ass in the air. He can’t spread his legs this way, with his pants still mostly on, and heat pools in his belly as he realizes Jim’s done it on purpose, knows how much McCoy loves the extra tight squeeze as he works his cock inside him.   
  
Not much time is spent opening McCoy up, just a cursory stretch with two slick fingers before Jim is lubing up his cock and positioning himself. Jim grips his hip with a slippery hand, nudges the head of his cock between the cheeks of McCoy’s ass, and then with a hard thrust, he’s pushing inside.   
  
“Oh,  _god_ ,” moans McCoy. Behind him, Jim sucks in a sharp breath, immediately pulls out and slams in again, and McCoy stifles his cry as he drops his head down into the cradle of his arms. “Hnnghmph.”  
  
“Okay?” says Jim breathlessly. He goes still in the worst possible moment, balls-deep in McCoy and splitting him wide open.   
  
“ _Yes_ ,” whimpers McCoy, his thighs trembling. There’s an ache already building in his balls, a tension mirrored in the muscles of his stomach. “But if you don’t start moving in the next three seconds I may die. Fair warning.”  
  
“So dramatic,” mumbles Jim. He gives McCoy a gentle roll of his hips, easy and smooth and perfectly angled to ignite waves of sensation inside McCoy as Jim’s cock brushes his prostate.   
  
“There,” says McCoy, eyes wide. “Right there, keep doing that, possibly forever.”  
  
“You act like I don’t know exactly what you like,” teases Jim, repeating the movement with more force. He settles quickly into a hard rhythm, well-aimed thrusts that fill McCoy up and rock him forward into the mess of blankets and pillows, driving high, helpless noises out of his mouth.   
  
Though it all, Jim holds him, tucks an arm around his waist and braces them both; presses hot kisses to his shoulders as he murmurs affectionately about McCoy’s freckles and then switches topics seamlessly from innocent to dirty by hissing odes to the tight heat of his ass, working his cock deep inside him until McCoy is limp and sobbing.   
  
“Please,” he gasps, lips swollen from biting them to muffle his own cries. “Jim, please, I need—”  
  
“C’mon, Bones,” says Jim, kissing the shell of his ear. “You can come for me.”  
  
His hand leaves its circle around McCoy’s waist to cup his straining cock through the thin fabric of his pajamas and McCoy mewls as he comes, bucking hard into the fleeting touch of Jim’s hand.   
  
Jim grunts his release a moment later, gathers McCoy against him as he spills deep into his ass, and then they both abruptly lose muscle coordination and collapse onto the ruined sheets in a panting heap.   
  
“You can finish dumping the pillows on the floor,” slurs McCoy, pinned flat by Jim’s body, face smushed into the mattress. “I’m done.”  
  
Jim chuckles and rolls off him, curls up close to McCoy’s side. “They’re cushions.”  
  
“Whatever. Statement still stands.”  
  
“They can stay, for once,” mumbles Jim, cracking a yawn.   
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Yeah. Then I can build a fort around you while you sleep.”


End file.
